


Ghost Story

by Arwen88



Category: Band of Brothers
Genre: Haunted Houses, Horror, M/M, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-23
Updated: 2020-05-09
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:54:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23795695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arwen88/pseuds/Arwen88
Summary: In Bastogne Bill is sent on patrol with Babe and Muck, but as they make their way through the woods something strange emerges from the mist in front of them, something that shouldn't have been there.
Relationships: Bill Guarnere/Babe Heffron
Comments: 4
Kudos: 10
Collections: Loose Lips Sink Ships Prompt Meme





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Thrillingdetectivetales for betareading this!  
> Written for the Cowt10 and the LLSS meme, prompt "Ghost Story".

Babe jolted awake in the foxhole he was sharing with Bill and Julian and looked frantically around, his mind still fuzzy and confused by the nightmare he had just had. He calmed only when he met Bill’s gaze, the man shivering even bundled up in his coat and under the blanket they were sharing.

“We’re alright, boy,” Bill reassured him, uncrossing his arms to better fix the blanket around Babe’s shoulders before tucking his hands under his armpits once more.

They were not alright, but Babe did appreciate the feeling behind the words, Bill’s way of telling him there was no immediate danger - no more than the usual at least - and that it had been nothing more than a nightmare.

For the life of him, Babe couldn’t remember what he had dreamed about. As he huddled for warmth against his friend, he tried to grasp for anything about his dream but all he could remember was the dread of something lost.

“You should try to get some sleep,” Bill warned him as the first light of dawn reached them through the trees and he got ready to slip out of the hole to see if there were new orders.

Babe found himself holding his breath for a moment, something in his brain catching up, and he turned to look at Bill who was fixing the blanket once more around Babe after slipping from under it.

“You were there.”

Bill raised his eyes on him and huffed with a crooked smile. “Hero in shining armor I hope.”

It was Babe’s turn to smile, the bad feeling left behind by the dream finally seeping away. “Can’t really say.”

“Catch some sleep.” Bill climbed out of the foxhole, throwing barely a glance behind to the men huddled inside of it before he started the trek between the holes where his boys were asleep. While walking, he tried to figure out if there was any chance they would have Dike relay orders to them for once or if they would have to decide who to send to Winters back to the CP for it.

“How you doing?” he asked sottovoce to one man or another as he checked that they didn’t need anything. He was a bit concerned about how pale some of them looked, but there wasn’t much to do about that, not with the cold and the scarcity of food.

“Hey.” He nodded at Perconte, who was standing guard towards the line beside a sleeping Christenson. “You alright?”

Perconte huffed and shook his head, not even glancing away from the no man’s land. “Too cold, man. My watches stopped, would you believe that?” He lifted his arm where Bill knew he wore a little collection of watches, and tried listening with one ear before shaking his head ruefully. “Fucking snow.”

Bill shook his head, looking around. “I don’t think it will snow today, at least. Seems like mist is today’s flavor.”

“Yeah, what’s not to love about that?” Perconte mumbled and Bill left him with a little chuckle, walking towards the spot the NCOs used to meet to discuss plans and orders, sometimes joined by their company leader.

He greeted the other NCOs already standing in the usual spot with a nod of his head and he rocked back and forth on his feet as he looked around. "No Dike?"

Buck shook his head with a grimace, looking Bill over from head to toe. "You alright?"

"Yeah, right as rain, except my fucking piss hurts me." He shook his head, hissing through his teeth, remembering what Roe had told him about the fact that there was nothing he could do about that. He wasn't exactly happy to know that he had apparently caught something from one of the last girls he had had when they were still in town. He better get it gone before he went back to his fiancé, or she would skin him alive.

He was so deep in his thoughts that it took Buck elbowing him for Bill to notice Lipton trudging through the snow to get to them from the CP's direction.

"Hey, Lip."

"Lip."

"Guys." Lipton nodded at them, shaking badly under his coat and scarf. "Dike?" he wondered, looking around, but Buck's snort was all the answer he needed. "Well, Winters just asked for a patrol, nothing we can't handle ourselves."

"Any order to move?"

Lipton shook his head and breathed on his hands, trying to warm them. "They still say to hold the line. Just asked for a little group to check the line towards Dog to see if there are holes in there that can be covered somehow."

"We're spread too thin," Buck complained between his teeth.

They all had to nod at that, agreeing with him on that statement. They were spread too thin and had no way to cover their holes in the line. Their only luck was the fact that the Germans clearly thought they were much more numerous than they actually were.

There was no sense in complaining. It wasn't like Winters could do anything to get them more men or better provisions, or the man surely would have done that sooner rather than later.

At least they could count on that.

"Bill, choose a couple men and take them towards Dog." Lipton nodded towards him, his hands back under his armpits.

Bill shrugged but gave a curt nod, thinking fast about who he could take with him. "Right. I'll go see who's up already."

"It's just reconnaissance. If you see Krauts call for backup."

"Yeah, yeah, don't feel like going on a suicide mission today." Bill snorted, rocking back and forth as he listened to Lipton relay the patrol orders for the company.

It should have been Dike's duty to do so, but God only knew where the man was, and they had long since stopped waiting or expecting for him to show up and care about how the company was fairing.

At least they had Lipton, Bill considered as he walked back towards the foxhole he had shared with Babe.

***

Babe was walking in front of the group, careful where he stepped while so close to the enemy line. He could hear Bill's steps behind him and Muck closing the line, all three of them trying not to step on branches and risk signaling their positions to the Krauts.

There wasn't much they could do for the crinkling of the snow under their boots, a noise that seemed to echo in the silence around them.

The mist hanging around them had the trio walking close to one another, not wanting to lose sight of their friends, or risk mistepping and ending up in the Krauts’ line.

It wasn't easy, the American line so spread out that they could only follow the vague direction in which Dog should have been. The scenery all looked the same in whichever part of the woods they were in, bushes and black trees that slowly emerged through the mist, every sound amplified by the solitude and the cloud all around them.

Babe stopped abruptly in his tracks, blinking and narrowing his eyes to the huge black shape that he could see through the mist.

"What's wrong?" Bill whispered behind him, trying to look over his shoulder and falling silent himself as he saw what had made Babe stop to look.

"What the hell is that?" Muck chimed in, pressing his lips in a tight line when they both shushed him.

They stood still, looking around with a certain amount of confusion, but the woods looked exactly the same as always, the same patch of green and black that they had seen everywhere since reaching Bastogne.

"I would remember seeing that." Babe threw a glance back at Bill, who was looking grimly at the dilapidated construction in front of them.

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure everybody would remember seeing that. Or it should be at least on the map," Bill considered with a frown.

Muck looked around and then behind them, dubious. "Do you think we got through the enemy lines? Maybe that would explain why there's a house that none of us or Dog have ever seen."

"Nah, we shouldn't be there yet." Bill shook his head, before hinting towards the abandoned looking house with his gun. "Let's go check it out."

They moved slowly, for once glad for the mist that covered them, and kept their ears open for any sound coming off the cabin. There was no noise coming from the building, nobody who seemed to be guarding it even though it would have been the perfect place to stay.

There was a patio running around the little house, a wood floor that looked at least a hundred years old and about ready to crack under their boots. They stepped on it carefully, walking up the steps to get closer to the door.

Babe frowned at it, noticing how much more sturdy than the rest of the cabin the door looked. He wrapped his fingers around the knob as he watched Bill peek inside through one of the broken windows, careful not to step on the glass lying on the patio under it.

Bill took a short look inside, enough to make sure there was nobody in there, and then he looked again, taking stock of the broken furniture, blackened by smoke and years of humidity, the floor covered in dead leaves and garbage, the remnants of burned chairs in front of an empty fireplace.

He met Babe's gaze and nodded once, standing beside him as Babe turned the knob and opened the door.

"Muck, you stay outside. Warn us if there are any movements," Bill ordered in a whisper before he followed Babe who had already stepped inside.

Muck nodded, turning to better check the surrounding woods. Bill left him to it, now busy considering where somebody could hide inside the house.

"Man, I don't care if it's cold in there as long as we can get out of the snow." Babe shook his head, considering the stairs going up to the top floor for a moment before he followed Bill across the hallway, ready to shoot as Bill turned the knob to open the first door.

It turned easily enough, like there had never been a problem with rust or locks taking too much humidity through the years, and Bill started pushing the door open.

Unprompted, the open door slammed closed.

Both of them jumped at the sudden loud noise, and they turned one way and the other to check if somebody was going to appear, if somebody had pushed it closed.

"A draft?" Babe speculated, even as he looked dubiously at the open, broken-down windows.

Bill almost said something about not feeling any draft when he had opened the new door, but he let it go, turning around with a shake of his head to inspect the new room.

They blinked in surprise as the door silently turned on its hinges, a room much different than the hallway they had come through appearing in front of them.

The room was filled with warmth, a little stove burning in a corner, and there was the fragrance of flowers in the air. A spacious bed was against the opposite wall, covered by a warm looking blanket, and a quilt of pink and green fabric hung on one of the walls above a little desk were a lady was sitting, her silent sobs shaking her shoulders and the letter she clutched between her fingers.

They turned to stare at each other, shocked by the difference between the abandoned cabin outside of that particular room and the place they were looking at.

The lady didn't seem to notice, or to care, and Bill belatedly noticed that she was wearing a dress that had been out of fashion for more than fifty years, probably even before then.

"Miss?" Babe tried, and only then the woman stopped crying, at least for a moment, turning to look at them with wide surprised eyes.

"Miss, are you alright?"

The woman kept silent for a second before she started speaking in a rush of words that sounded French to both the Americans, not that any of them could recognize what she was talking about. She looked frantic all of a sudden, pointing from them to the direction they had come from, looking more scared by the second.

Instinctively, Babe took a step back, lifting his gun and his free hand. "Look, I know- I'm sorry. We had to check, alright?"

Bill shook his head, fearing somebody would hear her screams, and he instinctively grabbed the knob to pull the door closed between them.

The screaming ceased immediately and Babe took a deep relieved breath beside him, sharing a glance with him.

"Should we say sorry?"

Bill snorted softly, but then nodded, opening the door with every intention to say just that and leave.

What they saw when Bill pushed the door open once more was too shocking, though, and they were left speechless.

Gone was the woman, disappeared into thin air with no other doors to get out through. Gone was the quilt on the wall and the letters and diaries that had previously covered the desk. The stove in the corner was cold, and the bed had a pile of blankets on top as if somebody had tried to get enough of them on top to be able to warm up anyway.

"What the fuck?" Babe whispered, shocked, and Bill couldn't help but agree.

"Let's get out of here," Bill ordered, too stunned by what they had just witnessed to think about any possibility of staying and discovering why and how, exactly, that change had come to be.

He grabbed at Babe's wrist and without a second thought he tugged him towards the front door, set on getting the hell out of there and quick.

It all came to an end when he turned the doorknob and threw the door open only for the wood scenery outside to be gone.

No more woods, no mist or snow, no Muck waiting outside.


	2. Chapter 2

A simple, casual looking kitchen was behind the door, a little room with a stove, a table and a few chairs.

"Oh God," Babe whispered, turning his arm in Bill's grip to make Bill let him go. Instead of moving away he grabbed at Bill's hand and squeezed it hard, a wave of panic surging through him as he was caught by the realization that chances were they couldn't get out of there anymore. "Bill..."

Bill had the same thought, nodding his head and returning the squeeze to Babe's fingers. "We'll get out. We'll get out." He nodded his head, stepping away from the door to check the windows. They were the same broken windows they had seen when entering the cabin, but there was no Muck outside, probably gone to search the other side of the cabin. The woods were still there, looking peaceful and quiet even if barely visible through the mist, but a second look through the door confirmed it led to a kitchen instead of the outside.

Babe closed the door, reopened it, and huffed at now seeing a bathroom through the door.

"I don't like this, I really don't like this."

"I don't like it either, Babe." Bill shook his head, grabbing at Babe’s hand and squeezing it once more.

Babe threw him a glance, not even surprised by the gesture, and tried swallowing down a lump in his throat.

"If the door leads to other places how are we getting out?"

"I-" Bill shook his head, wanting to appear more certain of himself than he actually felt, trying to be the leader Babe needed in that moment. "We could close it and open it until we get outside."

"Tried that, doesn't really work."

They turned abruptly at the stranger's voice behind their backs, and before they could even think it through they pointed their guns at the two men nonchalantly standing in the hallway. One of them was leaning with a shoulder against a wall, a little crooked smile on his lips and the other was looking sadly at them.

"Who are you?" Bill asked loudly, even as he took note of how old and foreign their uniforms looked. It was the kind of thing soldiers in the Great War would wear, and he was filled by the dread that he knew exactly what was going on.

The men made a show of lifting their hands in a sign of surrender, not that either of them looked like they were carrying a weapon, but they didn't seem too worried about Babe and Bill’s guns or hostile stances.

"I'm Louis, he's George. And who are you?" one of the men said with a thick French accent.

"Why are you dressed like that?" Babe asked back, staring at their uniforms.

"Well, this is- kind of the only thing we own." Louis chuckled, pinching the fabric between his fingers.

Bill shook his head, not wanting to believe it, and looked outside the window, hoping Muck would come up front sooner than later.

"It's useless, we tried so many times. I think enough to last a couple years."

"How long have you been here?" Babe whispered hoarsely, starting to put together the clues. He tried to hide his terror, at least in front of the other soldiers, but he couldn't help the trembling of his hands.

"A couple years, I think. Hard to tell, it's always daylight outside. Always misty."

Bill looked them up and down, frowning. "What do you mean? How can it be always daylight? What year do you think this is?"

"Man, I don't know. If we knew how the house worked don't you think we would have gotten out sooner rather than later?" Louis waved a hand around.

George cleared his throat. "We escaped a POW camp the second of June, 1916. We were trying to get back to our line, but we heard soldiers and hid in here. It wasn't the best idea we ever had."

"Could have been worse," Louis commented with a little tilt of his head.

"1916?" Babe asked softly, slowly lowering his gun.

Bill threw him a glance, noticing right away how pale he was, and he pressed his lips in a tight line. "Bullshit."

"Yeah? Want to try and open that door another time? Or two? Or fifteen? It will always take you somewhere else, not outside."

"Where are you from?" George asked, looking curiously at their uniforms.

"Philly," Babe answered unthinkingly, a little frown pulling at his eyebrows. The two other men glanced at each other, confused.

"Where is Philly?"

Bill sighed, shaking his head. "Babe."

Louis looked dubiously at them. "Never heard of it."

"No, he's Babe." Bill clarified with a nod towards his friend. "We're from Philadelphia."

The two straightened up, suddenly more interested. "You're Americans?"

"Yeah."

"Did America join the war?"

"Well, yeah," Babe frowned, starting to understand that the two men - if they were telling the truth about the year they got stuck in here - were probably thinking about what had actually happened in the previous war, and not the one going on outside.

"With whom?"

"By your side-" Bill started, but he then shook his head. "It happened a long time ago, though."

"What do you mean? How long have we been stuck in here?" George took a step closer, impatient for answers, and Bill pointed the gun at him even though he was starting to feel that it was completely useless.

They were either stuck in a nightmare or in the worst cabin in the world. Either way, there wasn’t much of a chance they get out of here by shooting people.

"Twenty, more or less." Bill tilted his head with a grimace, looking at the pale men in front of him, shakingly grabbing at each other's arms.

George stared at the floor, shaking his head slowly, while Louis raked his fingers through his hair.

"Twenty- that's- wait, do they think we're dead?" he wondered aloud, voice rising in panic.

Babe wanted to tell them it wasn't probably the case, suddenly feeling rather sorry for them, but it would have been a lie, he knew. He lowered his gun, looking at Bill who did the same a second after.

"How did you survive in here for so long?" he wondered, looking around the dilapidated room. He glanced at the two men still swallowing down the news.

Louis turned around, pressing his forehead against George's shoulder with a deep sigh. "Twenty years?"

George closed his eyes and wrapped one arm around him, holding him as he went back to watching Bill and Babe.

"It's- it's always daytime. It's impossible to tell how long you've been in here. We tried going by when we felt tired, thinking it was possibly a full day from one time to the other. There is no lack of food. I mean, sometimes there is, but you just gotta open a door until the kitchen reappears at a time it was full. And it will be full the next time too."

"We saw a woman." Bill suddenly remembered. "In a room. And then the room became the same bedroom, but different."

George nodded, slowly rubbing Louis' shaking back. "Louis talks to her sometimes. She owned the place at first, her husband made it for them when they were going to get married. She doesn't leave the room, though."

"Is there anyone else?"

"A man in a bathroom. But he never- almost never leaves it."

"This makes no sense," Babe whispered, sighing.

"I know. It's a lot to take in." George sighed, looking at Louis when the man took a step back from him.

"Don't- don't step through a door alone, it will take some time to find each other again. Don't engage the guy in the bathroom. When you find him just close and open the door again," Louis advised them, taking a deep breath.

"Why?"

Louis closed his eyes for a moment before looking back at him. "He ended up here after killing his wife, we believe. He tried to murder us too."

"Don’t engage him, sure." Bill nodded, throwing a glance towards the window, hoping to see Muck pass by.

***

"How can we be sure how much time has passed if it's always daytime?" Babe murmured, sitting at the front room, his back to the wall while Bill kept guard at the window.

Neither of their watches would work anymore, and looking for any sign of time passing outside didn't seem to be of any use. No matter how much Bill looked and waited, there was nobody in front of the house, even though he was one hundred percent sure Muck was still there.

"This is useless," Bill had to admit dejectedly, letting himself slide to the floor beside Babe. He rubbed his hands up and down his face, tired and sincerely scared by the situation they were in.

They had tried going up and down the house after Louis and George had retired to the bedroom to talk between themselves. He and Babe didn't want to crowd them, not after telling those two that apparently they had spent half their lives locked in a madhouse.

They had searched every room, opening and closing every door until they found that what they had been told was true: once the door was closed, you had no idea what would be inside the next time.

No matter how many times they tried the front door, it never led back to the woods.

The whole house seemed able to change from one time to another, no particular scheme or sense to it.

Babe sighed, tilting his head back against the wall as he closed his eyes. “I’m so tired right now, I feel like I could sleep for two days straight.”

Those words jolted Bill up and he turned in a rush of panic to see Babe with his eyes closed, pale in the cold light pouring from the broken windows.

“No! No, we gotta stay awake, ya hear me?” He grabbed at Babe and pulled him closer, making the boy lean against his chest as he rubbed one hand over Babe’s back, trying to help him wake up.

He wasn’t sure how or why, but he was suddenly filled with the certainty that if they fell asleep they would lose any chance to escape, forever prisoners of a house that would eat them alive.

“You can’t sleep,” he almost begged Babe, taking his face between his hands to make the boy lift his head and meet his gaze. “Don’t you try leave me here awake and alone, you hear me?”

“Yeah,” Babe wanted to follow his order and so he did his best to stay awake, no matter how much sleep tried to pull him under. He could feel the edge of panic in Bill’s voice and instinctively he grabbed at his friend’s jacket, moving along when Bill pulled him closer, rubbing at him and trying to get some of the cold away from Babe with his own body.

“We have to think of a way to get out. Try thinking with me, Babe, stay awake and think,” Bill whispered, hating the fear he could hear in his own voice. He hadn’t been so scared of something since the first time he had jumped out of a plane.

Of all the people to end up in here with, a part of him was glad it had been Babe, but the rest of him was scared shitless about the chance he might lose him, or see Babe lose his hope of getting out like those two other soldiers had.

Babe sighed, leaning closer to the warmth of Bill’s body. As he snuggled against Bill’s chest he found slowly that the need to sleep didn’t seem that strong anymore. He turned his face against Bill’s shoulder until he could press the cold point of his nose into Bill’s warm scarf.

"What if we open every door?" Babe mumbled into Bill's scarf.

"Hoping one leads outside?" Bill slowly raked his fingers through Babe's hair, trying to soothe him.

"Well, if we open them all, and we make every room appear, the only door left would take us outside, right?"

Bill stilled, considering how it was actually a good plan. "Right."

Babe lifted his head from his shoulder, frowning at Bill's chin. "But if we don't get everybody out of their rooms, they would be stuck in here forever. We can't do that..." He shook his head, feeling his stomach heavy at the thought of trapping the two soldiers and the lady in their room as they tried to escape the place.

If they managed to get out, nobody would be there to close the doors once again and free those people from the house, or the last room they had chosen.

"We can't do that."

Bill swallowed, feeling a little hollow inside at understanding what kind of nightmare they would have forced the others into. It would be even worse than getting stuck in the house. They would be trapped in a single room, unable to feed themselves or get to the toilet or anywhere else.

"We could try looking for them, get them out of their rooms. They could come with us outside." Bill turned his head, brushing his lips over Babe's forehead.

They stilled, simply breathing together, and Babe closed his eyes.

Bill pulled him closer, wrapping his arms around his friend. He had wanted to protect the boy since the first day they met, always feeling responsible for getting the younger, more innocent boy home as unharmed as possible.

When he felt Babe relax once more he pressed another kiss to his hair, slowly rubbing his friend's back. "We'll get out of here, Babe. We're gonna get through this war and go back home, safe and sound. Back to Philly," he promised softly.

Babe sighed deeply, sagging against him, and after a moment he was shaken by a sob. "I want to go back."

"I know, I do too." Bill nodded his head, speaking against Babe's skin. "We'll get there. Your idea is good. We'll take what we can from this room and we'll block the doors with it, make sure they don't close on us. We'll get those two out of their room and we'll take them out with us if possible. If not- we oughta try for ourselves, Babe, we can't let our lives get wasted too."

"I know." Babe nodded, not saying a word about the unusual way Bill was treating him, what with his petting and placing kisses on him. Instead of moving away he pressed closer, trying to convince himself that there was nothing wrong with it, with looking for a bit of consolation in his friend's arms.

Bill took his hand in his own, squeezing it softly and brushing his thumb over the back of Babe's hand.


	3. Chapter 3

Guns on their shoulders, they worked fast, collecting the rubbish from the front room, dragging the remnants of the half-burned chairs until they had something to block the doors with.

Babe grabbed the first knob, the one they had seen led to a different bedroom, and he opened the door hoping to find the other inhabitants of the house.

Instead of the warm bedroom of the lady, or the clearly lived-in room they had previously seen, Babe found himself staring for the shortest moment at a freezing cold bathroom, a broken window letting the freezing wind get in with whiffs of snow.

He barely had time to notice the chipped porcelain of a bathtub, a broken mirror in front of a basin shining with the light of the moonlight coming through the window. The moment the black smears on the porcelain and the wood floor acquired a meaning was the same moment a scream pierced the still air.

A shadow moved and Babe was slammed to the ground on his back, choking, with two bony hands wrapped around his throat.

He gasped for breath, his eyes bulging as he got his first good look at the man now sitting on top of him. A grimy shirt covered most of his torso, even if it was thin with use and holey. The stench coming off him was terrible, even worse than their own was after living in grime and trenches, bleeding and surrounded by death. All Babe could think about was the pale face of the man, his bared teeth, the enraged look on his face that promised a quick, terrible death.

"What do you want from me?" the man screamed, his eyes bulging.

Babe gripped at the man's hands, trying to make him loosen his grip, to push him away. He barely noticed the sudden movement just out of his line of vision but he gasped when Bill hit the man with the barrel of his gun, sending him flying back on his heels.

Babe coughed with one hand wrapped around his own throat, crawling back and away from the man while Bill screamed, enraged, and bayoneted the man repeatedly.

Babe forced himself to get on his feet, leaning against the opposite wall as he watched Bill make sure the man was dead, his blood flowing out of his wounds and to the floor.

Bill stopped, panting, and turned around to make sure Babe was alright, ignoring the gasping, choking man on the ground.

"You alright?" he asked, grabbing at Babe's arm, relaxing his grip only when Babe nodded with a grimace, still massaging his aching throat.

"I'd say that's the man in the bathroom."

"Yeah, no shit, Babe." Bill smirked, starting to calm down at seeing Babe still had his terrible sense of humor on him. "No shit..."

They pushed the corpse back into the bathroom, taking care not to get too far in and risk getting stuck with him, but now that the danger was gone, they couldn't help but stare at the small broken window. There was a black sky outside, snow falling in, and it was jarring to need just to turn their heads to be able to see the misty day outside the windows in the front room.

"Do you think we could see what's outside if we found a whole one?"

"Don't know, maybe?" Bill shrugged with a frown, closing the door of the bathroom and opening it again to find the kitchen instead. "This good enough." He nodded his head, moving on to the next one while Babe stuck the leg of a chair between them.

Babe shouldered his gun, ready to protect him, but behind that one there was only the bathroom, frozen at a time when it was still full of creams on the shelves and soft looking towels.

They nodded at each other and started piling the remains of rubbish and rags to stop the door from closing, the same way they had done with the previous one.

The door upstairs was the worst one. The bedroom that kept appearing behind it was a million shades of different from each other, sometimes just looking the same from the previous one, other times years apart. Sometimes there was something just slightly out of place, the stove on or off, the letters piled up on the desk or not; books on shelves, paper sheets covering the dusty floor, the number of blankets on the bed different.

"We're losing time," Bill sighed, feeling his eyes heavy with sleep while Babe kept opening and closing the door.

They were both growing frustrated, aware that the more time they spent here, trying to get the others out of the bedroom instead of simply propping the door open, the more they risked falling asleep, or losing the chance to get out before too much time had gone by.

"I know, but we have to get them out of here. We can't-" Babe shook his head, dreading both getting stuck themselves and condemning those two soldiers to never get out of their bedroom.

Bill sighed deeply and closed his eyes, just for a moment.

His body felt like it weighed a ton, his limbs trying to pull him down. He started sliding down slowly, thinking only about sitting on the floor, when a scream from Babe jolted him awake, his heart hammering in his chest as he aimed the gun once more.

Babe started at seeing the two men they had been searching for, now sitting side by side on the edge of the bed, a blanket covering their shoulders, but he was abruptly stopped in his tracks by Bill grabbing hard at his wrist, yanking him back.

He turned to look at his friend, surprised, only to understand the mistake he had been about to make when he saw the panic in Bill's eyes.

"Don't." Bill shook his head, breathless, his grip around Babe's wrist so tight he knew he was probably hurting him. It was worth it when he saw Babe's gaze soften and his friend took a step back, moving beside him outside of the room.

"We are trying to get out. We'll have to leave the doors open though," Babe warned them, expecting them to stand up from where they were and get out of the room.

But the two men merely looked at each other briefly before shaking their heads.

"It's too late for us. There isn't a world for us outside of here. Not that I think your idea will work anyway. The outside door can only be opened from the outside."

"Just leave us here."

Babe couldn't understand, his heart heavy at the thought of abandoning them. He would have never done something like that to one of his friends, and yet those two soldiers who had escaped the enemy before were now asking to be left behind.

"But this is a prison..." he murmured, frowning.

Despite Babe's confusion, Bill was starting to understand why they would choose such an end. He looked closer at them, at how they pressed together, their hands grasped between them.

"This has been our whole world for a long time. Honestly, I don't think we could make it outside of here anymore."

Babe made to protest, but Bill squeezed his wrist softly, shaking his head at him. "It's their choice, Babe." He pulled his friend back, shouldering his gun to close the door.

Babe parted his lips, looking at him dejectedly, and Bill knew a protest was coming but he shook his head once more. "No. It's their choice, Babe. They ought to do what they think it's best for them, just like we do." He reopened the door a moment later, looking into the empty bedroom now in front of them.

Bill pushed the remnants of what used to be a pillow between the door and the doorframe.

"We could have saved them," Babe whispered, looking sadly at him.

"And make them go back to a world they disappeared from twenty years ago? Nobody would believe them, they would end up in some asylum. It's their choice."

***

They made their way downstairs quickly, eager to prove their theory right, eager to be back. They stopped in front of the door, staring at its heavy wood, the last and only thing keeping them from getting back to their lives.

Between them, Babe moved his hand a few inches until he bumped with Bill it. He was able to take a deep breath only when Bill took his hand and held it tight.

"Ready?" Babe whispered, waiting only for Bill's nod to turn the knob and open the door.

The cold light of day poured over them, the mist so thick outside they couldn't see more than two meters into it. And yet the room somehow retained some warmth, protected from the weather by the glass still intact in the little window just under the roof.

They looked around the little attic.

There was a chest, and some baskets piled inside each other, a few bottles sitting around and a few chairs covered by a sheet. Dust covered all of it and swirled in the air.

Bill lowered himself slowly, placing his gun in the door to stop it from closing behind them as they stepped into the little loft.

They didn't dare let each other go as they slowly made their way into the warm room, looking at the stuff that seemed to have been stored there by the lady now trapped in her own bedroom.

A stack of books lay on one chair, and Bill moved the chair out of the way to be able to lean closer to the window and look outside.

Babe pressed his hand over the glass, his heart hammering in his chest. "Do you think this could be showing our outside?" he didn't dare say louder than a whisper.

"Maybe?" Bill murmured, trying to see if there was any distinctive sign to see from up here.

"Why do you think we didn't see a door that would bring us here before?"

"Maybe it’s hidden. Or it was sealed." Bill turned around, looking at the floor in search of a trapdoor. "Maybe the outside door never opened to this because there wasn't an actual door to open until the house was forced to."

Babe gasped, pressing himself against the window as he tried peeking at the figure he had glimpsed. "Muck! Muck is out there!"

Bill was beside him in a moment, trying to fit against the window with Babe, trying to see the man they had left behind what seemed like a lifetime ago.

"Muck!" Babe hit the window with his hands, trying to get Muck's attention, and he didn't even notice the moment Bill stepped away from him to shove the books to the ground.

"Move aside!" Bill ordered, grabbing at the chair to hurl it against the window with all his strength as soon as Babe jumped out of the way.

The crashing sound of the glass exploding outside was deafening after the silence they had gotten used to, and Bill let the chair fall to the ground as he and Babe tried looking through the window to their friend now yelling at them.

Babe could feel his heart nearly beating out of his chest when Muck moved away from the patio to look up at them.

"Muck!"

Bill grabbed at Babe's elbow, pushing him out of the way enough to be able to have Muck see him better.

"Muck, listen to me. You wait. Wait exactly two minutes, alright? And then you open the front door."

Muck frowned at them from below, looking confused, but then he nodded slowly.

"Two minutes. Give us two minutes and then open the door, you hear me?" Bill tried to make sure, and Muck nodded more convincingly.

Bill nodded and grabbed at Babe's hand once more, squeezing it before he started for the door, dragging his friend along. He grabbed at his gun from the floor, but before he could do anything Babe stopped in front of him, breathing hard.

"Bill." He squeezed Bill's hand back, closing his eyes for a moment before he looked back at his friend. "Do you think it's gonna work?"

"It has to," Bill whispered, trying to believe it. "It has to work. The door opens only from the outside, remember?"

He closed the door, and they stood side by side staring at it, trying to count the passing seconds as they watched and waited, hoping to see the knob turn when Muck opened the front door from the outside.

The seconds trickled down slowly, time seeming to stretch, and they almost stopped breathing as they waited and waited.

Bill felt as if his whole life was stopping as he kept silently counting the passing time, but then he saw the knob start to turn ever so slowly. Bill could swear his heart stopped for a beat.

The moment the door opened they grabbed at it, throwing it open and pulling a surprised Muck a step in, still attached to it.

“What the-”

Their shout of happiness and relief covered Muck’s words and before he could say anything else they crashed onto him, hugging him and pushing him back step after staggering step until they were finally free on the patio.

For all the joy they felt at being freed from that nightmare, both Bill and Babe felt a shiver run down their spines when a whiff of glacial air hit their backs. They turned, afraid they weren’t done with that terrible house, just in time to see the doors of the rooms try to slam closed, only to be stopped by the rubbish they had piled in each doorframe, as the front door slammed closed right in front of their faces.

They stood still, not daring utter a word, and somehow even Muck understood that something bad had happened to them, that they were shaken by something more jarring than the empty house they had seen at first through those broken windows.

“Let’s get the fuck outta here,” Bill drawled, turning around and pushing Muck down the steps of the patio.

Before stepping out himself he made sure to grab Babe’s wrist, pulling the boy out with him as he rushed away from the house, his heart still hammering at how close they had come to losing themselves and their lives.

“How long have we been in there?” Bill asked as he walked fast, Babe beside him and Muck following with a frown.

“What?”

“How long’s it been? Between when we got here and when we broke that window?” Babe specified, throwing a glance at him from over his shoulder. His mind was exactly where Bill’s was, stuck on the fear that they might have been in there entirely too long a time, even if the presence of Muck outside the door and ready to get them out looked to be a sign they hadn’t been gone that long. Less than a day, certainly.

“What do you mean how long? You’ve been in there, I don’t know, five minutes? Two?” Muck shrugged, his steps faltering when Bill turned around abruptly, looking even paler than before.

“Five minutes?”

“Yeah, I didn’t even finish my cigarette.”

Babe and Bill exchanged a glance before they started moving back towards their line in silence.

Bill didn't even think about letting Babe go, the gentle squeeze of Babe's fingers around his hand all he needed to know everything was alright.

***

Babe would have understood if Winters told them off or sent them straight to see the Doc once they had reported in about the surreal house in the woods, but Bill was adamant they had to try at least. Babe wasn't really sure if Bill liked their CO or not, but he knew Bill respected him as a competent officer, and Bill thought that was all they needed anyway.

Bill wouldn't have dared to say a word to anybody else, sure that they would send them both to the hospital, claiming they were traumatized or something of the sort.

Winters simply looked at one then the other, listening to every word they said before shouldering his gun and telling them to show him the way.

He put together a patrol and they tried to retrace their steps to the house.

It seemed the right thing to do, not really wanting to risk somebody else stepping inside and being lost forever.

"We should have burned the place down," Bill whispered to Babe as they walked, and Babe couldn't have agreed more.

Bill stopped abruptly when they reached the spot where he knew the house was, and Babe almost tripped on his feet, both of them shocked by what they were seeing.

“Is this the place?” Winters murmured, frowning at what lay in front of them behind the slowly clearing mist.

“Yes- yes, sir.” Bill turned to look at their superior officer, his mind reeling at what was there. “I swear, sir-” He shook his head, speechless.

“It was here, sir,” Babe whispered, staring at the spot where the house had been no more than half an hour before.

“It was! I saw it too, sir, it really was!” Muck added, starting to feel as shaken as his companions.

Winters kept silent, studying their incredulous expressions, none of them seemingly drunk or under the effects of some drug, all three of them telling the same tale. He looked to where Babe kept staring and slowly started approaching the spot Bill pointed at while recounting what was there.

It would have been a strange lie to tell, a little too fanciful and not something three soldiers of their characters would have made up, especially to the point of asking their ranking officers to move forces just for a prank.

Winters moved slowly, his eyes darting from the path in the snow made by three sets of boots to the clean ground where his men insisted there had been a house too terrible to risk somebody entering it once more.

He got closer and closer, until, through the rising mist, he was able to follow the footprints of his men and read what had happened.

Bill moved closer to him, shouldering his gun. “Sir, it was here, you have to believe me.” He tried convincing him, afraid Winters would not only believe they had lied, but send him and Babe and maybe even Muck away from the line and to a hospital, if he didn’t just court martial them for fucking up their few resources by sending a whole patrol on a goose chase.

“I believe you.”

Babe parted his lips, ready to talk, but then he kept silent and exchanged a surprised look with Muck. “You do?”

“Yes.” Winters nodded, glancing at them over his shoulder before tipping his chin at the spot where the house used to be. “Notice anything?”

Bill waved one hand, frustrated. “Yeah, there ain’t no fucking house! Sir,” he added, almost as a second thought.

Instead of getting pissed at them or showing he was joking, Winters merely stared at the ground.

“There is no house, but there was something here.” He waved one hand over the spot that Bill noticed only then was completely clear of snow, unlike the rest of the clearing, shining white under the pale sun. “Something stopped the snow from getting to the ground. Something big as a house. And the footprints on the terrain.” He lowered himself to a crouch, staring at the soil while the rest of the men stepped closer to see the strange spot where apparently a cursed house had been not long before. “You said only two of you entered. And only two sets of footprints go beyond this point. Moving on a path that is consistent to your story. Only… as if there was no floor. As if you moved on the clean soil the whole time.” He stood up, staring at the soil, and Bill felt his heart hammer in his chest at the new proof that the place they had been stuck in held more mysteries than they had imagined.

“Sir…”

“I believe you, Bill,” Winters reassured him, throwing him a look before he looked at Babe and Muck too. “Strange as this seems, I believe you. Something had you trapped or believing you were. It would be better to alert the others divisions to not get too close. Let’s go back to our positions now.” He signaled for the whole patrol to go back, stopping to squeeze at Babe’s shoulder as he walked by, a little smile for his men that did a lot to calm their nerves as they all followed him back.

There was no explaining what they had gone through, no proof left, nothing but the creak under their boots as they walked over the spot where the glass from the upstairs window had fallen when they had broken it. That too went unnoticed, lost under the noise of the many boots stepping on clear snow. 

Bill didn’t argue. He longed for his foxhole, and maybe for Babe’s company under a blanket, the two of them sharing the heat, and maybe, at some point in the future, a memory of a nightmare only they had lived.


End file.
